


Stories of the Second Self: The Spirit of Horsepower

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [13]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Charles, a giant purchased a jeep rebuilt with semi-tractor parts for his size of driver only to find that it has engine problems. Charles was told the jeep requires a sacrifice of goat's blood to run. Howie, a Fae mechanic practices magic on the side and promises to try what he knows.
Series: Alter Idem [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: The Spirit of Horsepower

“The car won't run. The last owner said it only ran on sacrificial goat's blood. I figured they were joking,” I tell Howie at the mechanic shop where I paid to have my Jeep towed.  
"Goat's blood, huh?" the Fae mechanic said, "I think I can work with that."

Looking down at Howie, you know, because I'm that much taller, I'm not sure what he can do with a vehicle built for giants. From his three point antlers, I gauge that he's at the lower end of their caste system. He has a slighter built than the second tier Cernnunos Fae who are taller, more muscular, and generally seen as wiser. The lower Luc Fae tend to be the smartest with greater reflexes, which earned them the unofficial slang term of Tricksters. Yet, Howie's been my mechanic since before he was a Fae and before I grew into a giant.

"Have you ever heard of something like that?" I asked Howie.

"Goat's blood in a magic ritual for powering cars?" he inquires for clarity, and then shakes his head. "Nah. There's something I've been considering, Charles, but I need you to sign a waver from my boss."

"I've already filled in the other forms," I said.

He trots off into the garage with a light clip clop of hooves and comes out with a three layered white, yellow, orange carbon copy form. With the partial crash of society, and recovery only just starting a couple years ago, low tech paperwork came back into use.

"Yeah, see Charles," Howie started to explain, "What I wanna try isn't mechanics, really, so our shop isn't legally covered for liability."

"You're serious about the spell thing," I said, making sure I get his implication.

"That's the size of it, yeah," Howie affirms, "Now she'll still need gas, but if this works mileage will improve, it'll feel like you have power steering, and maybe even the radio reception is better, among other things."

"You're joking," I scoff, thinking he's pulling my leg, 'cause that's how he always was.

"Five years ago, I'd have been kidding," Howie said, "But I've been trying it on lesser objects and they seem to improve. Cars are more complicated, so I'm not sure what to expect."

"What have you testing this out on before?" I asked.

"Well, shoes," Howie said, which confused me until he added, "Not mine of course, 'cause I don't wear them anymore. But the shoe laces tie themselves now. I fixed a toaster that way, and tested it on a windup watch."

"That's it?" Interestingly, I'm more skeptical now than before, however, I need a car to get to work, so I start on the paperwork. "Alright, let's do it. Cheaper than buying a new car."

"I'm not actually going to charge for this," Howie dismissed, "We've been buddies for a long time, and really it doesn't cost a lot to do the spell. Labor would be about sixty dollars, which is pointless if I screw this up."

"Thanks man," I said and grabbed a large cement bench to wait.

Howie goes right to work, through his lunch hour even, and the rites he conducts are both odd and elaborate. I've used magic here and there, but nothing major. Every Fae can pull illusions out of their ass- not literally, but they don't have to learn how or work hard at it.

Yet, this spell he's doing includes stroking and praising my car, which draws a smirk out of me. Cars rebuilt for giants have only one seat per row, and mine's just a two-seater. The suspension also had been reengineered using semi-tractor truck shocks.

After nearly two hours, he wrapped it up and then opened the side door to jump up onto the seat and test the ignition.

"That's it sweetie," Howie said soothingly to the car, and stroked the dash like it were a pet, "Yeah, your runnin' fine."

"So it works?" I asked standing up.

"It's called Personification," Howie informed me, and hops down from the driver seat way too big for him. "Now, the way this is supposed to work is you talk sweetly to your car and tell it what a good job it's doing."

"You're kidding," I huff.

"Hoa!" How stops me there with his hands up in urgency. "Can't be down on it like that now. The spell thrives on positive attention, so even if you don't drive it everyday you gotta pay attention to it. It needs affection now, so how you treat your car is very important to its performance."

Nodding rapidly, I said, "Alright, alright. I appreciate this."

Howie tilts his head subtly to the car, "Remember, you car needs love too."

"And you too, Jimmy," I spontaneously named my giant-configured Jeep. "Who's the best car, huh? Who's the best car?"

It audibly revs up at that, and I thank Howie again before getting in. After pulling into traffic, I run my hand on the dash and give Jimmy a little pat. In answer, the radio pops on and dials itself to my favorite station. I belt out AC/DC and Credence Clear Water Revival all the way home.


End file.
